


Side-effects Of New York Traffic

by you_niverse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bakery, Flirting, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, attempted humour, i uSed tO wOrK iN a bAkeRy, larry stylinson - Freeform, lowkey ridiculous, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_niverse/pseuds/you_niverse
Summary: "In which a yellow, decrepit bike, a croissant and a fully floured kitchen might lead to more than just 'making up for crashing into you with my bike'"Alternatively called: two idiots meeting in the most ridiculous way possible.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 19





	Side-effects Of New York Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just 7k words of fluff (and kinda attempted humour?)
> 
> Please don't repost without permission, thank you!

Louis was grumpy, to say the very least. It was far too early for him to be awake, there were too many people towering over him for his liking and he was sure he could already feel the bruises forming on his shoulders, where other people had bumped into him on the busy streets of New York. He was currently waiting for the traffic lights to turn green, restlessly bouncing on his feet. There was a businessman wearing a suit next to him (it looked expensive, it probably cost more than Louis' monthly rent), who was tapping one foot on the pavement continuously, and although Louis could understand his annoyance, he still found the sound of it distressing.

The traffic light finally turned green, and although it was the pedestrians' turn to cross the street now, the numerous cars flashing past him showed no indication of slowing down whatsoever. Louis let out an annoyed huff, the businessman next to him cursed under his breath and an old lady behind him, whose small dog was barking in an unpleasantly high and wiry tone, was complaining stridently. The atmosphere of New York City at 8AM was truly lovely. 

Louis' day had already started as a catastrophe (and he was not exaggerating). Upon coming into the living room of his small flat, he had noticed that his neighbours cat (nasty little beast) had climbed over the fence of his balcony again. Now his favourite plant (to be fair, he only owned one, but he still liked to refer to it as his favourite plant) was destroyed and the soil was spread out all over his balcony's floor. He had considered to actually clean it up (for around half a second, but it's the thought that counts, he told himself), but upon throwing a glance at his clock, he'd decided to leave the soil be as he was already running late. Maybe the wind would blow away the soil, he had thought as he'd frantically tried to find a clean shirt and comb his hair at the same time (it didn't work, because his hair seemed to have decided to be extra uncooperative, untamable and unruly today). He had mentally apologised to the people walking past his building today (he knew out of experience that it wasn't exactly pleasant to get a blow of air carrying plant soil right into one's face) and scurried into his kitchen, just to face the next catastrophe of his morning;

He had run out of his favourite tea. To most people that might not be that big of a deal, but everyone who knew Louis Tomlinson well enough was aware of his (slight, as he put it) obsession with yorkshire tea. Louis never left his flat without having had a mug of steaming hot yorkshire tea, no matter how hot it was outside or how late he was running. Unfortunately, yorkshire wasn't sold in the US (tasteless fuckers, Louis had muttered standing in front of the tea corner in the Target in his neighbourhood), so he had to get it delivered from the UK, which was going to take a while. And if that wasn't a valid reason to be in a horrible mood, Louis didn't know what was. 

Now he was standing in front of a big street with cars that just wouldn't stop, amongst people whose moods seemed to be just as bad as his. Just as the traffic lights turned red again (and the cars continued to rush past him), his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out and mustered his lock screen, where a message had popped up. He liked to check whose message it was before opening it, just in case it was a person he wanted to ignore. That wasn't necessary though, as it was his bestfriend (whom he had saved as 'irish dude whom i met in a walmart/dickhead' in his phone). 

"hey dude", the first message read. 

"lad, bro, dudeski, bro, mate" (it sounded very much like something niall would send him, especially as he had written 'bro' twice) 

"i came to a 3am realisation; waffles *dramatic pause* are just pancakes with abs" 

"also, imagine eating popcorn kernels right before dying, and them burning my corpse; my cremation would be fuckin sick" 

Louis couldn't help the snort that escaped him, glanced up to see that the traffic lights had turned green again and the cars had actually come to a halt, started walking over the street and responded with a dry:

"mate" 

"no offense but" 

"genuinely what the fuck" 

Really, it was his fault as he had been staring at his phone screen while crossing a street. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and Louis needed a moment to realise that it had been him. Shortly after, he found himself on the ground, a worried voice talking to him. He needed another moment to notice the stinging pain in his ankle, and the yellow, very decrepit bike lying on the ground right next to him. 

"Sorry, sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt?" 

"Am I okay?", was the first thing Louis replied, followed by a:

"Oh, uhm, yeah, I am. Okay, I mean." 

It wasn't his fault that he didn't sound too smooth, because of course the dude running him over had to be the hottest man possible, and he was thrown a little off guard, okay? That happened when a hot stranger was crouching down right in front of you. Two clear green eyes were mustering him worriedly, the luscious brown curls framing his face were nearly tickling Louis' face. 

"Do you need an ambulance?", the stranger (whom Louis estimated to be around his age) asked, offering him a hand to help him up. 

"No, no, seriously I'm fine", Louis assured as he tried to get up, wincing at the stinging pain shooting up his left leg. 

"Mate, you're literally limping", the boy (man?) said as he helped Louis sit down on the edge of the pavement, reaching for his phone to dial the ambulance's number. 

"No no no no no, really, that'd cause way too much of an uproar, and I'd rather not have any more people staring at me. You see, I'm not too keen on ending up in some random safety ad about not looking at your phone while in traffic. I'm okay. I'll just go home and get me a band aid, I'll be alright."

"You can hardly even walk! You need to get your foot checked, it might be serious", the stranger protested. 

"You're not calling an ambulance. No.", Louis argued and made another attempt to stand up. His ankle still hurt. 

"Okay", the man said after some seconds of silence. 

"At the risk of sounding real fucking weird, how about I bring you to the hospital?" 

"How are you gonna do that? Pretty sure you don't wanna carry me", Louis said and shook his head vigorously when the man let his gaze wander to his bike which he had picked up. 

"No way I'm getting onto that thing. That looks like it's gonna crash any second, and I don't wanna break my neck, mate." 

"Hey!", the stranger said, visibly offended. 

"It's not that decrepit, it looks worse than it actually is, promise." 

•••

"This is so weird", Louis said once he was sat on the surprisingly soft saddle of the bike. 

"You could be, like, a serial killer or something, taking advantage of me because I can't run away. You could be kidnapping me, for all I know. Wait, are you?" 

"No", the man chuckled. 

"It's kinda hard to kidnap you on a street full of people, on a bike I can't ride, you know." 

"Fair point. But now that you're half-kidnapping me anyway, you could at least tell me your name.", Louis said. He never missed a chance to get a cute boy's number, after all. 

•••

As the visit at the hospital proved, Louis didn't really have a serious injury. His ankle was sprained, so he had to take care of it for a while and he'd be fine. When he came back to the man (whose name was Harry, as he'd found out) waiting in the entrance area, he let him sit on the bike again. 

"I crashed into you, so i feel responsible", Harry explained as he pushed his bike through the crowded streets of New York City. 

"Don't you have anywhere to go, though? Or did you call in sick?" 

"Yeah, my boss Liam is a good friend of mine, so he was quite chill." 

And if calling in sick meant frantic texts of "ohmygodliamtheresthatcuteboywhokindacrashedintomebutthatsbesidethepointhelookssogoodwhatdoido" and "oh btw my ankle's sprained, ain't comin today", nobody had to know. 

"So, uh, if you're free anyway, mind if I half-kidnap you again?" 

Upon Louis shrugging and shaking his head, Harry grinned in satisfaction and started pushing his bike once again. They ended up in a smaller street, in front of a lovely small bakery. The sun was shining onto brick house, the small bakery had a cozy atmosphere and the smell of baked goods lingered in the air. 

As soon as Louis and Harry entered the bakery, a woman appeared. 

"Harold, where have you been?" 

"Hey Perrie. Uhm, longer story, actually", Harry replied and motioned to Louis, who was standing behind him. 

"Oh, and you are? Oh my god you aren't Harry's boyfriend, are you? Harold, you should've told me!"

Harry quietly groaned as he vigorously shook his head. 

"No, Perrie, he is not my boyfriend. Even if, you would've known by now, considering how nosy you are. That's Louis. I kinda.. crashed into him, but anyway." 

Perrie mustered the two of them closely, frowning. 

"You two should date.", she said after a while. 

"You should totally date. I bet you'll be dating by the end of next month, and if not, I'll be your wingwoman. Oh I'll be a great wingwoman." 

"Oh god, please no", Harry groaned massaging his temples while Perrie threw a dish towel at him. 

"You better get working now. Oh and Louis dear, can I offer you something? I don't know, maybe a croissant? Or tea?" 

•••

It was a few days later, when Louis thought about the bakery again. He was sitting in the train, the city outside the windows rushing past him in a blur. The sun was hanging low amongst wispy, soft rose-purple clouds, the sky glowing warmly in dusky orange, faded red and light blue, light reflected by the numerous windows of skyscrapers. He was contemplating visiting the bakery again to see Harry and maybe say hi to Perrie. Then again, he felt like it'd be weird if he showed up out of the blue. Harry had probably just helped him to be polite and wouldn't remember him anyway. 

Maybe he could go there, and if they recognised him, he could say hi and maybe get himself a slice of banana bread. And if not, he'd just act like a normal costumer and head home. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan to him. 

Louis started doubting the brilliancy of his plan as soon as he was standing in front of the cozy bakery again. It would end up being very awkward, he was sure about it. Fuck it, he muttered as he pushed the glass door, a small bell hanging above it announcing his entrance. Harry was nowhere to be seen and Perrie was sweeping the floor with a broom. She seemed to be preparing to close. Upon hearing the bell Perrie looked up and flashed him a smile. 

"Hi Louis! Nice to see you, love. HAROLD, GET YOUR ASS HERE!" 

A faint "my name is not Harold!", was heard from another room and harry appeared behind the counter. 

"Oh well hello there, Louis. Want something?", the taller male grinned, wiping his hands on his apron (that suited him way better than any apron ever should).

"Oh uhm." Louis stuttered. 

"I'll .. I'll have a banana bread and yorkshire." 

"What is it with you guys and yorkshire? Perrie's obsessed with that stuff too. Everyone should know that Earl Grey is much better", Harry said absentmindedly as he wrapped a slice of banana bread in a paper bag. 

Louis gasped dramatically, visibly offended. 

"Oh how very dare you? Yorkshire is the best tea ever! Don't you ever question that!", Louis said, glaring at Harry jokingly. 

"Nah, I like me a good cup of Earl Grey. More taste, in more than one sense, you know", Harry smirked as he filled a paper cup with Louis' favourite tea. 

"Man, and I thought you were cool. I am so disappointed, Harold", Louis sighed melodramatically as he opened his wallet. 

"Excuse me, I'm totally cool, thank you very much. Do you always rate men by their taste in tea? Oh and by the way, my name is not Harold, even though a certain person", he glared at Perrie, who was putting chairs on the tables, "keeps calling me that despite telling them that my name is Harry. That'd be.. $2,90." 

"But. No, wait, that's just the price of the tea. You forgot to add the price of the banana bread.", Louis said as he mustered the price tags again and frowned. 

"Nah, you'll get the banana bread for free. You still have to pay for your tea though, because of the lack of taste.", Harry grinned as he handed him the receipt. 

"Do you always treat random people banana bread and insult their taste in tea?", Louis asked as he handed over the money. 

"Only when they're cute", Harry winked and Louis absolutely did not blush, because he was Louis Tomlinson, and Louis Tomlinson didn't blush, ever. 

"Alright you flirt", Louis said as he turned around to exit the bakery. 

"Wait", Harry called and Louis turned around. 

"Aren't you gonna ask for my number?"

"I strongly suspect you wrote it onto the receipt", Louis replied cheekily as he opened the glass door once again, a chilly breeze entering the small space. 

"How come you already know me that well?", was the last thing he heard before the door fell closed. Louis definitely wasn't grinning like an idiot on his way home. 

•••

This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was a Sunday morning (well, it was nearly noon, but it was a Sunday so Louis still considered it morning) and Louis was standing in his kitchen. 

Sun light was streaming into the room through the windows, casting long stripes of light and shadows onto the wooden floor. Where the light met the air, small particles of dust could be spotted dancing around in the air. A mild breeze entered the room through the halfways opened window. But Louis was way too frustrated to take note of the lovely weather. Even his coffee (yes, coffee, because his new load of yorkshire hadn't been delivered yet) standing on the worktop had cooled down and his toast slices had been ready for minutes now, but Louis had yet to notice.

In his hand, he was holding a wrinkly piece of paper; a receipt. It was the one he had received at the bakery a few days ago. On the backside, Harry had scribbled down his number messily. He had probably written it in a hurry so Louis wouldn't notice, hence the barely legible combination of figures. Louis had found said receipt in the small space beneath his fridge when he had crouched down to pick up the package of butter he had dropped.

His phone wasn't far. He could just take it, type in the number and contact Harry. But then, he risked having a real awkward conversation. Or maybe no conversation at all. Maybe harry had given him some random number he'd made up as a joke (not that he thought Harry would do such a thing, but still). He was definitely overthinking, but these were all possibilities (some rather unlikely possibilities, he had to admit) he had to consider. 

Suddenly, he wasn't even sure if he could read the number properly. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really recognize if the third number was a five or a six. And the seven kind of looked like a one too, if Louis squinted hard (no, he wasn't making up reasons not to text Harry, not at all). He could just pretend he hadn't been able to decipher the figures as an excuse why he hadn't texted Harry. 

But then again, he sort of really wanted to text Harry. Just to be polite, and such. Louis decided he was an idiot. A completely and utterly overwhelmed idiot. He figured he should have breakfast first (things always worked out better with a content stomach), set his phone aside and grabbed the two slices of toast. He buttered them, grabbed his coffee and sat down on the sofa.

After breakfast, Louis found himself in the same situation as before; wrinkly receipt in one hand, phone in the other, frown on his face. He typed in the number, saved the contact as "harry (omg help)" and opened the chat. He took a deep breath, compared the number with the one on the receipt once again and sent:

[Sunday, 12:03pm] you: hey

[Sunday, 12:03pm] you: it's me, louis

He then shut off his phone, threw it to the other end of the sofa and got up to take a shower.

Freshly showered and with a refreshed mindset (not really), Louis restarted his phone. He had received three messages from "harry (omg help)".

[Sunday, 12:14pm] harry (omg help): Oh hey

[Sunday, 12:15pm] harry (omg help): I thought you'd never text

[Sunday, 12:15pm] harry (omg help): What are you doing?

[Sunday, 12:21pm] you: just had breakfast

[Sunday, 12:21pm] harry (omg help): At noon??

[Sunday, 12:22pm] harry (omg help): That's more like, a breaklate

[Sunday, 12:22pm] you: HAROLD.

[Sunday, 12:22pm] you: that pun was  
horrible

[Sunday, 12:22pm] you: it doesn't even make sense, it's  
called breakFAST, not breakEARLY. u dumb? 

[Sunday, 12:23pm] harry (omg help): I bet you're  
grinning at your screen

[Sunday, 12:23pm] you: 'm not, ur pun was awful

[Sunday, 12:24pm] harry (omg help): So, how are you?

[Sunday, 12:24pm] you: don't u use  
abbreviations? like hru?

[Sunday, 12:25pm] harry (omg help): No I don't? why  
would I?

[Sunday, 12:25pm] you: y wouldn't u? istg ur such a  
grandpa. how old r u again?

[Sunday, 12:25pm] harry (omg help): I am NOT a  
grandpa! Or at least a hot one.

[change name to: "hot grandpa"? YES]

[Sunday, 12:27pm] hot grandpa: So, how are you?

[Sunday, 12:27pm] you: good, thanks. u?

[Sunday, 12:28pm] hot grandpa: Me too. Did you know  
I saved you as "lou"?

[Sunday, 12:28pm] you: did u know i saved u as "hot  
grandpa"?

[Sunday, 12:29pm] hot grandpa: Oh I feel so flattered

[Sunday, 12:30pm] hot grandpa: I gotta go finish my  
shift

[Sunday, 12:31pm] hot grandpa: It's a shame bakeries  
are opened on Sundays too

[Sunday, 12:31pm] you: alright, c u hot grandpa

[Sunday, 12:32pm] hot grandpa: see you, lou 

•••

It became a habit for Louis to take the long way home. He liked to stop by at his newly found favourite bakery to get himself a banana bread, and, perhaps, to see Harry's face too, although he'd never admit that. It only took so long until he started entering the bakery to an already prepared yorkshire tea and a grinning Harry awaiting him.

It was an evening in may. Louis was sitting on the underground (or "subway", how the Americans called it. It drove under the ground, so the name "underground" was perfectly fine, if you asked him. He didn't get Americans anyway), a deep frown on his face, and genuinely just wanted everyone to fuck off. There was a child shouting a few rows behind him and he was barely resisting the urge to just tell it to shut the fuck up. He wasn't usually like that, really. but could he be blamed after such a day? 

He had missed his train, which had resulted in him being late and getting scolded by his boss ("this is the third time this week, and it's only Wednesday! Care to explain, now that you can no longer use your injury as an excuse?" Louis had just rolled his eyes. He hadn't been late on purpose, so it wasn't exactly his fault, thank you very much). 

And as if that hadn't been enough already, The printer on their floor had given up upon its job, which had had Louis running up and down the endless stairs of their office building every time his boss, an employee or he himself wanted to have something copied or printed out. And frankly, that happened quite often. He was seriously considering staying home the next day, in case the printer wasn't repaired by then. He just wanted to sleep, was even gonna skip his trip to the bakery today. 

Now he was finally on his way home. Mentally, he was already in bed, reading a good book, wearing his warm, fuzzy socks and listening to a good playlist. Physically though, he was still on a crowded train, and fuck, he'd missed his station, which meant he'd have to walk longer. That again meant he'd have to wait longer to get into his bed. He groaned and ran his fingers through his messy hair. Nothing was going right and all he wanted to do was to crawl beneath his fluffy blanket and remain there for 24 hours straight, and maybe some more. Was that too much to ask? Probably, but he was too tired to care.

He got off the train a few minutes later and found himself in an all too familiar environment. It was the train station he always got off at when he visited the bakery, which had been pretty much every evening for the past few weeks. If you're already here, might as well get yourself a yorkshire and a banana bread, he told himself.

The weather outside the underground station matched louis' mood all too well. The early evening sky, which should've been tinted in various shades of bright sunset colours, was covered with dark grey clouds hanging low and heavy. Louis felt he could almost smell the rain and decided to hurry so he'd at least get to the bakery before it started to rain. He rushed through the almost empty streets, everyone having fled from the upcoming downpour. The rain started falling just the second Louis turned into the street the bakery was in. And as predicted, it wasn't just some light evening serenity. Louis felt like big buckets of cold water were being emptied above him. His view blurried slightly from the big, heavy drops that created a curtain of water. By the time Louis stumbled into the bakery, his jacket was soaked, the jumper beneath it wet and his socks sticking to his feet disgustingly.

Perrie ran up to him right away.

"Oh my god louis, you're fucking drenched!"

"You don't say", Louis grumpily replied as he shrugged off his jacket, feeling a few droplets trickling down the back of his neck. 

"Wait a second, I'm gonna get you a towel" 

Louis gratefully took the towel Perrie offered him, dried his hair, his face and his neck as well as possible and let himself fall onto one of the chairs. He sighed. this day was horrible. 

"Had a long day, didnt ya?", Perrie asked as she set a mug of steaming hot tea on the table in front of him, before she took a seat across him. 

"To say the very least, yeah. I just want to sleep, honestly. But–", he pointed outside the window, where the drops were beating down onto the ground, puddles growing larger by second.

"Doesn't look like I'll be able to head home anytime soon."

He took a sip of the beverage, the hot liquid warming his insides. Just then Harry came out of the kitchen area.

"Oh, hi, louis. Wasn't expecting you in this weather. I'm very flattered you endured the rain in order to bless us with your visit."

"It was by accident, actually. Like, I missed my train station and it already looked like it was gonna rain, so I fled here. The downpour still caught me though, as you can see."

"I'll pretend i didn't hear that and remain flattered, thanks. I was about to head home, but i think I'll wait for the to rain calm down. Anyway, can I get you something? We've got pastry left, so it'd be for free."

"Oh, that sounds good. I'm in need of sugar after such a day. Have you got some banana bread left, by chance?"

"I'm afraid it's sold out tod–"

"Ohhhhhhh", Perrie exclaimed, "Now that we're stuck here for a while anyway, how about you two make some banana bread together? Harry can teach you how to. I'll just wait here."

"You're still tryna get us together", Harry accusingly said to Perrie, who was smiling up to him innocently.

"But I'm in if you are", he turned to Louis. 

"Haven't got anything better to do, have I?", Louis vaguely replied. Internally, he might've been screaming (because he was gonna bake something with Harry. just the two of them).

When he followed Harry into the kitchen area, he could practically feel Perrie's face-splittingly wide grin in his back.

Harry put on an apron and handed him one too. Louis pulled it over his head and reached behind his back in order to tie the strings, but soon noticed that he was rather forming a knot in his arms than in the two strings. Harry seemed to have caught on that too and chuckled.

"Wait, let me help you", he said, turned Louis around by his shoulders and started securing the apron around his waist.

"You're a sappy idiot", Louis said.

"Shut up, you totally love it."

"I do not. Now shut up and turn around so I can tie your apron too. Shush Harold, don't laugh.", Louis said and slapped Harry's bicep (while totally accidentally noticing the firm muscles beneath his shirt) and then proceeded to pull the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows.

"Alrighty, so what are we doing now?"

"We are... gathering the required ingredients. We need butter, sugar, two eggs, three bananas, flour, baking soda, vanilla and salt. Can you get the dry ingredients? They're up there, in the cupboard. I'll get the stuff from the fridge, alright?"

Louis nodded and walked towards the cupboard above the worktop. He then looked up. There was no way he could reach the containers of flour and sugar up there. He didn't even want to try by stretching and getting on his tiptoes, but he didn't want to ask Harry for help either because he knew very well that Harry would tease him for years. He did still have some pride remaining inside him and seriously, he wasn't that small. He looked around for something to stand on, but didn't find anything.

"Oh, can't reach the cupboard? My bad, I should've known", Harry smirked and oh, that fucking bastard.

"I hate you Harold, you're absolutely awful", Louis exclaimed and whacked the latter's back.

"Pretty sure that's not true. Also, your height is cute. Anyway, i'll get the dry ingredients instead. Can you preheat the oven to 350°? Oh and please ask Perrie where the fuck she put the salt, I can't seem to find it."

"You're lucky you're quite charming, Harold, otherwise I would've sued you by now", Louis remarked as he set the oven to the right temperature before he left the kitchen area to find Perrie.

Said one was still sitting on the chair she had sat down on earlier, seemingly scrolling through her social media. Louis let his head peek around the doorframe and shouted:

"Hey Perrie, I've been ordered to ask you 'where the fuck you put the salt', as Harry phrased it."

"In the drawer beneath the worktop. Tell Harold to watch his language, would you?"

Louis grinned and nodded. He was about to turn around and return to the kitchen when Perrie's mischievous voice reached him.

"Oh, and Louis dear? Remember to use protection, will ya?"

Louis blushed and decided to pretend he hadn't heard that last remark.

"Perrie says the salt is in the drawer beneath the worktop. She also tells you to watch your language, Harold", he let Harry know.

"Seriously, when will people get that my name is not Harold?"

"Probably never, if they get to know you in combination with Perrie. So, now that we've got the salt, what's next?"

"Uhm... Mix the butter and sugar till it gets creamy. We need half a cup of butter, can you measure that? I'll measure the right amount of sugar meanwhile."

They got to work and it was quiet for a minute or two. It was a comfortable silence, the only audible sound was the rain still knocking against the window. After Louis had discovered that the mix didn't really taste good (seriously Lou, what did you expect butter and sugar to taste like? The dough is nowhere near done yet) he was told to crack two eggs while Harry peeled the bananas. The first one went well, the shell cracked cleanly and the egg didn't spill or get onto his fingers. But when he tried cracking the second egg, the shell broke unevenly and fell apart, which caused pieces of the shell to flow into the butter-sugar-mix with the egg white.

"Oh crap", Louis muttered as he tried to get the small pieces of egg shell out of the bowl.

"What happened?", Harry asked.

"Looks like we're gonna have some egg shell crunch in our banana bread", Louis shrugged.

"Oh no, we can't have that, can we? Wait, lemme try"

Harry took a small spoon out of the drawer to his left and started picking around in the bowl. He pulled his brows together in concentration.

"Got it! There we go", he exclaimed when he succeeded.

They crushed the three bananas and added them, then they sift together flour, soda and salt. After they had evenly mixed the dry ingredients and the butter-sugar-banana-egg-mix (which tasted quite horrible, if Louis may say so), Harry added some vanilla and their dough was ready.

"Stop! Finger out of the dough, Lou ", Harry scolded when he caught Louis sticking his finger into the bowl to try it.

"Tasting the dough is literally the best part of baking, Harold", Louis said and smeared the dough on his fingertip onto Harry's nose.

"Hey!", Harry shouted and tried to clean his nose.

"That's not even true! Dough is meant to be baked, it tastes way better when it's not raw. I don't get why people would eat unfinished pastry!"

"It tastes good, you moron", Louis said and squeaked when Harry dipped his finger into the dough too and smeared it on his forehead.

Louis stumbled backwards in an attempt to escape it and his elbow hit the package of flour. It took approximately half a second before all of the kitchen was covered in white powder. The worktop, the floor, the opened drawer, Harry and Louis, everything was sheeted with a thin layer of flour. Harry sneezed. Louis started laughing. 

"It looks like it snowed", Louis giggled as he attempted brushing the white powder out of his hair. 

"Yeah, but it's in Perrie's kitchen, so we have to clean it up you clumsy moron", Harry scolded but couldn't help the chuckle that left his mouth.

"Everything alright, boys?", Perrie shouted from where she was sitting, unaware of the mess in her kitchen.

"Uhm...", Harry said and turned to Louis slowly when they heard footsteps coming closer to them. Perrie peeked into the kitchen and squeaked.

"Uhm. Hi", Harry said, grinning awkwardly.

"Oops", was the only thing Louis said.

Perrie cleared her throat before saying:  
"This is not the kind of white substance i expected the place to be covered in when i sent you two into the kitchen. Anyway, needless to say you are gonna clean up until there's not a single particle of flour left here."

" 'F course", they both answered, ignoring Perrie's first comment. 

They broke into a laughing-fit as soon as Perrie left the kitchen, still giggling when they poured the dough into the greased and floured loaf pan and put it into the oven. 

"Alright", Harry grinned, still catching his breath: "55 minutes."

"That's too loooong", Louis whined as he picked up a wet wash cloth and started wiping the worktop.

"But we want it to be baked thoroughly. We ain't eating raw dough", Harry replied as he got himself a wash cloth too and started cleaning the floor.

Twenty minutes, thirteen sneezes and four laughing fits later the two were done wiping the entire kitchen. They removed their aprons, shook them till all of the flour was out of them, got rid of the remaining flour on their clothes and in their hair and wiped what had come out.

"This was a total waste of time, energy and flour", Louis said as he leaned against the worktop, hands on his hips. 

"But it was fun nonetheless, so", Harry responded and joined him.

Perrie entered the kitchen, mustered the place thoroughly before she deemed it clean enough and handed both of them a cup of tea.

"You worked hard, eh? So, when's the banana bread done?"

"I think half an hour", Harry answered and took a sip of his Earl Grey. 

"The rain's calmed down in the past few minutes, I think we'll be able to head home without literally drowning as soon as the banana bread is ready", Perrie let them know, threw a quick glance into the oven, nodded approvingly and left the kitchen again.

Louis grabbed Harry's mug, blew the steam for a while and took a sip (holy shit did that count as an indirect kiss??). There was a short silence before he admitted:

"It's... not awful, i reckon."

"You like it."

"It's not bad."

"You love it."

"It's quite alright."

"Come on, you love it, admit it."

"Shut up you jelly."

Harry grabbed Louis' mug of yorkshire too and tried a gulp.

"It's ... not awful, i reckon."

"You're mocking me you, dickhead. Besides, you obviously like it."

"It's not bad."

"Shut up you jelly, you love it."

"it's quite alright.", Harry grinned.

"You're a fucking twat. You love it, it's undeniable."

"You jelly."

"Hey, that's MY phrase."

"Stop cabbling like a fucking old married couple!", Perrie shouted from behind the wall.

"Also, boys? It's kinda late, so I'm too lazy to cook something proper once I'm home. You want me to get some pizza?"

"Oh hell yeah, I'm proper hungry!", Louis shouted back.

"Definitely, I'm starving! You're the best Perrie!"

After Perrie had left with their pizza requests, the two took out the golden brown, baked banana bread. It looked delicious and the smell of it lingered in the whole kitchen.

"Stop!", Harry shouted when Louis grabbed a knife: "It has to cool down first. Seriously Lou, you're like an impatient toddler."

" 'M just hungry."

Once Perrie had come back with three pizzas they had a nice improvised dinner together. They chatted, laughed and ate, and Louis felt like he had known Perrie and Harry for years (when had he become this sappy?). They had some of the fresh banana bread together (it was good!!) and when they finally left the bakery, the sky had cleared and like a belated little sunset, there was a thin stripe of pink at the horizon as the clouds faded away westwards. louis waved Perrie and harry goodbye with a smile on his face.

That night he fell asleep contently. The day had turned out to be quite alright in the end. 

•••

"Meow" 

Louis groaned and turned around once again, trying to find a cool patch on his pillow. He kicked one leg out from under the blanket, he turned his head to the other side, he pushed his arm beneath his head to use it as a pillow, he felt like he was stopping the blood flow so he changed his position again, he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling; it was hopeless. He couldn't sleep. His thoughts were bothering him a little too much to find a good night's rest. Also, his neightbour's cat was mewling constantly. Could that bloody small, hairy beast please just shut up? There was absolutely no reason for it to meow loudly at– Louis turned to the small clock on his bedside table– 2:54AM. none at all. 

"Meow" 

He sighed, studied his boring white ceiling closely and got caught up in his thoughts again. You'd expect him to have deep 3AM thoughts (or 2:55AM thoughts, if you may) about death or humanity or the meaning of life or something like that. Instead, he found himself thinking about a certain curly headed lad like so often in the last few weeks. They were seeing each other frequently, almost daily now. Louis would always stop by at the lovely bakery, chat with Harry, drink tea with Perrie, wave them goodbye and head home. And when they didn't see each other, they texted. Yet he had never really met Harry outside the bakery. Not that he minded, except he did. Maybe he was just some fairly good distraction at work to Harry. Louis himself had finally admitted he might've had a little crush on Harry. Could he be blamed? Harry was funny, he was a little different, he was genuinely kind, he was goodlooking (oh boi he was), he was Harry. 

"Meow" 

Louis groaned at his own sappiness and at the annoying cat next door. He kind of wanted to go knock against his neighbour's door to let the owner know that the bloody beast was making it impossible to sleep. And he wasn't blaming the cat for his sleeplessness. He wasn't. He was definetly more mature than that. It was obnoxious. He kind of wanted to cry. 

That's what happens when you lay awake at– he threw another glance at the clock on his bedside table– 3:02AM, he told himself defeatedly. He really wanted to ask harry to meet up sometime, outside the latter's workplace. But that would probably give away how he felt– desperate. So he didn't. It's just a minor crush, he whispered into the dark. Of course, nobody answered to confirm what he desperately wanted to convince himself of (frankly, that would've been pretty scary). The white ceiling remained unbothered by the lie Louis told himself, so did the walls and his too warm blanket and his flat, uncomfortable pillowcase. This was stupid. So, so stupid.

Louis must've had fallen asleep sometime in the AM. When he woke up in the morning, his hair was sticking to all directions, there was an imprint of the wrinkly pillowcase on his left cheek and the bags beneath his eyes almost looked big enough to carry his emotional baggage. Almost. He was well aware he was being a melodramatic little shit, but he was tired, okay? He had other things to care about. 

Louis grabbed his phone laying on the bedside table to check his messages and the news he needed to know. He couldn't surpress a smile when he saw that "hot grandpa" had texted him. He opened the chat.

[Saturday, 09:22am] hot grandpa: Hey Lou, you're  
probably still sleeping

[Saturday, 09:22am] hot grandpa: It's saturday so I only  
have shift till 3, you wanna come over to the bakery  
and we can go have some ice cream together or  
sumn like that?

Louis grinned because god, maybe something would work out for once.

[Saturday, 11:01am] you: sounds good!!

[Saturday, 11:02am] you: can i consider this a hot daze  
with the hot grandpa?

[Saturday, 11:02am] you: oh shit, i meant daze

[Saturday, 11:02am] you: *daze

[Saturday, 11:02am] you: ahhhh **DATE.

Louis giggled at his own mistake, his exhaution blown away all of a sudden. He stumbled to his bathroom, avoided looking in the mirror (because no, he didn't need a mental breakdown over his hair and his face and the bags beneath his eyes right now, thanks.), brushed his teeth and jumped into the shower. It was no different than any other day; he'd just see Harry. He still didn't want to look like a zombie with a bird's nest on his head.

Freshly showered, grinning and heart pounding as if he'd just run a 30 miles race (he'd told his bloody heart to stop beating the shit outta itself a several times but it didn't work), Louis arrived at his favourite bakery. It was 2:52, he was a little early. There was a small queue waiting to get the world's best pastry. Louis was glad the bakery seemed to be quite successful as it was pretty small. He looked at the people for a while. Children and their parents buying sweet pastry, grandmas getting cakes for their afternoon coffees (because Americans apparently didn't have tea times?? Louisa would never understand Americans), a group of teenagers getting themselves some biscuits, there were all kinds of people leaving the bakery contently.

He finally entered the bakery too and was greeted by the sweet scent of baked pastry, people chatting with each other while waiting for their turns, a grandma asking Perrie for cake recommendations, another employee he'd never seen before bringing in fresh bread (she probably didn't have any shifts in the evening when Louis would stop by) and Harry talking to a small girl, smiling widely. Harry gave the child a biscuit, winked and returned behind the counter. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, smiled and greeted another customer. He sure as hell was charming. Louis decided to wait in the background as Harry seemed quite busy and he didn't want to be a distraction. 

At 3 on point Harry pulled his sleeves down, took off the apron, shouted:

"Perrie, 'm done here for t'day, yeah? zayn texted, he'll be here in a minute!"

"Alright, see you Harold! Enjoy your date"

Harry disappeared in the kitchen area and came back with a jacket a minute later. He looked around for a second and seemed to have spotted Louis. He walked towards him.

"Hey Lou. Hope you didn't wait too long. Ready to go?"

"Absolutely, Harold."

"I'm here by bike, I hope you don't mind. I'll push it."

They walked out of the stuffed bakery and Harry unlocked his bike.

"I know a good ice cream place. That good?"

"Sure", Louis replied and they started walking down the street. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, the streets were full of people shopping and going for a walk. 

"So", Louis said: 

"Can I consider this a hot date with the hot grandpa?" 

"Sure you can", Harry grinned and added: 

"What an amazing daze."

"You jelly."

Louis threw a glance at Harry, who was walking next to him. The sun hit him in an angle that made him look almost ethereal. He was smiling at random passers-by as he walked.

"Why do you smile at them? You don't even know them", Louis asked. 

"Yeah, but maybe they're having a bad day, so I smile at them. I'm happy if I can improve their day even just a little bit." 

Louis couldn't help but smile. The man next to him was so wholesome it hurt. He continued walking and sighed contently. No one had ever warned Louis that falling in love was a side-effect of New York traffic.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where this came from, but oh well, I don't regret writing this—
> 
> Oh and I'm not a native speaker, but I hope the grammar wasn't too horrible. Sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> Have a lovely day, stay safe and always remember; Larry is superior.


End file.
